


To Establish Ties

by Em_Jaye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Assistant Darcy Lewis, Awkward Flirting, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Geek Love, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is used to following orders.  Even the strange ones, like when Darcy Lewis asks him to draw her a sheep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Establish Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to do this for Valentine's Day...but I didn't because of reasons. It's weird and the result of a prompt my friend Doc gave me, throwing the gauntlet that I couldn't ship Darcy/Steve with absolutely everything. Plebe. What does he even know?
> 
> Anyway...*wince* hope you like it? Let me know?
> 
> I also don't have a beta so any mistakes are entirely mine and my sleepy, sleepy eyes.

                Fury’s debrief had sort of gotten away from him.  This tended to happen sometimes when the world wasn’t ending and mutant lizards or giant robots weren’t attacking a major city.  His leadership was unquestionable in a crisis, Steve had noted, not without admiration, but his day-to-day interactions could still use a little work.

                The debrief itself had been fine, informative and necessary after the most recent mission in Andorra but it had lingered just a little too long. Natasha and Clint had started doing that non-verbal communication thing where entire missions were planned and regimes fell with a few eyebrow twitches. Tony was doodling something in the margins of his notes that looked like it might grow up to be a new piece of a generator that could power an entire city.

                Or it might have been that mind-reading toaster he was always threatening to build.

                They all kind of looked the same to Steve.

                Thor was blinking rapidly, looking like he might be on the verge of a nap and Banner, though doing his best to appear attentive, had been subtly checking his watch for the last few minutes.

                He should have been paying attention.  But he was more than a little distracted by the way Darcy Lewis’ messy dark hair was falling across  her forehead as she bent over her laptop, logging minutes for Fury.  He kept forcing himself to look elsewhere, but his eyes tended to wander to the fan of her eyelashes against her fair cheeks and then to her bitten, red lips. To that little line of concentration between her eyebrows. To the way her blouse gapped when she leaned over to retrieve her cell phone from the purse at her feet…

                “Miss Lewis,” Fury’s voice cut through the beginnings of a very dangerous train of thought.

                Darcy’s attention snapped up from the text she’d just been composing; her features frozen into a guilty look of surprise. “Yes?”

                “Something that you and Miss Simmons feel the need to share with the rest of us?”

                Steve looked across the table to find Jemma clutching her own phone with an equally guilty expression.  “No, sir,” Darcy answered, saving them all from Jemma’s inevitable apologetic stuttering.  “We were just…” she coughed.  “It doesn’t matter.”

                “No,” Fury agreed, his tone clipped and impatient.  “It doesn’t. Meeting adjourned.”  He hooked Darcy with a thoroughly unfriendly look.  “Lewis, come and see me later.”

                It was only a moment after he left that Tony dropped his head backward and released an audible sigh.  “Oh, thank God.  I’m starving.”

                “As am I,” Thor said as they all began to stand up.  “What sustenance should we seek?”

                The conversation turned to options for lunch while Steve gathered up his own notes.  Jemma’s face was still bright red as she scurried over to where Darcy was packing up her laptop.  “Darcy, I’m so sorry,” she said, pushing back the wispy hair that had fallen in her face. “I didn’t think he’d see us.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” Darcy waved her concern away.

                “So what _was_ so important that it couldn’t wait until after class?” Clint asked with a grin, sidling up to the two of them.

                Steve glanced up in time to catch the faint blush that colored Darcy’s cheeks.  He forced himself to look away as she said, “Just some office gossip.”

                “Anything I should know about?” Tony asked, abandoning talk of lunch plans while his eyes darted from Jemma to Darcy and back again.

                “It doesn’t really matter,” Jemma said quickly. 

                “Girl talk,” Darcy said breezily.

                “Boring,” Tony assessed with a nod.  “Lunch?  Who’s eating?  I’m eating.”

                They weren’t all eating, but they were all heading in the same direction, which gave Steve a few more minutes to contemplate asking Darcy if she had any interest in letting him get to know her.  He wound up in the back of the pack, trying very hard not listen in on the hushed conversation that Jemma and Darcy were carrying on.  And since he wasn’t really trying to listen, he only heard bits and pieces about some kind of scandalous hook-up between one of the junior agents and a member of the armory staff.

                He didn’t really want to know anything about a junior agent hooking up with the armory staff anyway, so he focused on the delightfully chaotic nature of Darcy’s hair, allowing himself a moment to wonder what it would feel like to run his fingers through it.

                Steve knew how ridiculous this little infatuation was.  He had said maybe twenty-five words to Darcy since meeting her two months ago.  She was smart and funny and unfazed by the superheroes and impossible situations that happened around her on a daily basis.  He liked that.  He liked that she didn’t scare easy; she had a calm about her, especially when confronted with science-bending weirdness and end of the world situations.  It reminded him of Peggy a little bit.

                His phone buzzed in his pocket.  Steve looked down, surprised to see a text from Clint.

                _You should hang back. Talk to her._

When he looked up again, the group had splintered. His team had disappeared down the hall to the right—in the direction of the kitchen—leaving him bringing up the rear with two women who had forgotten he was there.

                And with teammates who, apparently, were all too aware of his crush.

                That never boded well.

                “Well, I’ve got to drop this off down at the lab,” Jemma said of the files in her arms.  She gave Darcy a smile just before her eyebrows jumped up toward her hairline in surprise.  “Captain Rogers!” she exclaimed, her tone turning Darcy around as well.  “I had no idea you were there!”

                He managed an easy smile that he was fairly certain told them he hadn’t been eavesdropping.  “Not a problem, Agent Simmons.”

                She gave another little blush and clutched her files tighter. “See you both later,” she said and rushed away down the hall toward the science division, leaving them alone. 

                Steve glanced down at his shoes and swallowed hard. When he looked up, though, Darcy was smiling fondly in the direction Jemma had just gone.  “I like her,” she said with a decisive nod. “She reminds me of a gerbil I had once.  In a good way.”  Steve felt himself smile before she continued.  “Sorry, by the way,” she said, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ears.  “That you probably heard us being girly and unprofessional.”

                “Oh,” he cleared his throat.  “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t trying to listen in.”

                She raised her eyebrows.  “But you did anyway?”

                “Uh, no,” he felt the tips of his ears turn red.  “No, I mean. I was trying _not_ to listen to what you were saying…so no apologies needed.”

                That must have brought the total of words they’d exchanged at least into the forties or fifties by now, he thought glumly to himself.

                _And you’ve managed to make a fantastic impression.  Well done, Steve._

“I wouldn’t even care,” Darcy said, not as put-off as he thought she should be by his idiotic mumblings.  “But Grace has so much going for her—and Paulus is such a _jerk_ —I just can’t believe she’s into that.”

                Steve blinked. “Wait—the guy you’re talking about is _Paulus_?” He had only met him a few times, but every time, he’d been left with an unpleasant taste in his mouth.  Paulus had a habit of crude humor and blatant disregard for personal space when it came to the women in the office.  Truth be told, Steve had found himself pummeled  by the Pauluses of the world for much longer than he hadn’t. He didn’t spend any more time near the guy if he could help it.

                “Yeah, he used to leer at me down in the archives and now he’s been promoted to—whatever—gun librarian.  The one who’s like a villain from a 1930’s movie.”

                He felt himself grin at her reference.  He wondered if she knew how funny she really was. “All but the handlebar mustache,” he said, pleased when she laughed in response.

                “Don’t give him any ideas,” she groaned, still smiling. “He’s already got that side-part that’s _way_ too villainous.  I can’t even see how Grace finds him attractive.”  She gave a little shudder of her shoulders and Steve’s stomach twisted with a coil of anger.  He couldn’t help but wonder just how much leering had gone on down in the archives before they’d both been transferred elsewhere.  Although, he reconsidered with a glance at Darcy’s heavily loaded purse, he’d heard all the rumors about her arsenal of self-defense and figured if something had happened, she could have very easily dealt with it herself.

                Instead of voicing any of that, he only shrugged. “I don’t really know Grace personally,” he said of the problem that had started the gossip between her and Simmons. “So I can’t really judge; but she must see something in him.  Sometimes the heart can see what’s invisible to the eyes.”

                At least, that’s what his mother had said once and, if he was honest, what he’d always been counting on with that illusive Right Partner.

                Darcy’s expression changed then, from cynical confusion to pleasant surprise before she gave him another smile and a little hum of amusement.  “Draw me a sheep,” she said with a look up at him that made his mouth run dry.

                Sheep…ram…otter…Steve would have drawn her a mastodon if it meant she looked at him like that again.

                Before he could ask if she was serious—did she really want him to draw her a sheep?—her phone rang and she pulled a face before answering it.  “On my way,” she said quickly before she rolled her eyes.  “I sent that to you three days ago, but yes, I’ll bring another copy.”  She glanced up at him and mouthed   _Sorry!_  before giving him a little wave and taking off down the hall.

                He stood watching her leave for a few moments before he was jolted back into awareness by Clint’s hand clamping down on his shoulder.  “So how’d that go, Cap?”

                Heart still racing from the surprise, he turned to face Barton, surprised to find Natasha and Bruce had returned with him.  “She uh, she asked me to draw her a sheep,” he said with a thoughtful frown.  “Is that a reference I should understand?”

                Barton’s expression twisted into confusion.  “How’d she use it?”

                “What?”

                “Like, how’d she say it, exactly?”

                Steve’s brow furrowed thoughtfully.  “Um, she just kind of said it,” he said with a shrug.  “We were talking and then she just asked me to draw her a sheep.”

                “Like a sheep sheep?  With fluffy wool or whatever?”

                He shrugged again.  “I would assume.  She left before she could elaborate.”

                What remained of his team exchanged looks with each other before the weight of their curiosity landed on Natasha.  She mirrored Steve’s shrug.  “I’ve…never done that.  So I really can’t advise here.”

                They glanced at one another again before Bruce took off his glasses and looked like he was fighting a grin.  “Maybe you should just draw her a sheep, Steve.  See what happens.”

               

***

                Steve’s sketch pad was usually a busy place.  He never bothered to start with blank pages for sketches—he used every white space available.  A leftover habit from growing up during the Depression.  But this time, when he sat down at his kitchen table, he turned to fresh, crisp new page and smoothed his hand over the blank space.

                “Sheep,” he said out loud to himself.  “Draw her a sheep.”

                It felt like a strange thing to have to admit, but Steve hadn’t actually seen all that many sheep up close.  He’d grown up in Brooklyn, far from farm animals of any kind.  He’d seen a handful of farms on his USO tour, but anything beyond giant eyed cows staring blankly from the pastures and the far-off bleating of goats and the general smell of farm had gone fuzzy with the passage of time.

                The internet was incredibly unhelpful.  The search performed on his phone delivered every sort of sheep imaginable; black and whites of stony-faced rams and happy, colorful shots of prancing baby lambs, even grainy images of two-headed sheep fetuses in jars at old county fairs.  But nothing felt right—nothing sparked his imagination or stirred in him something worthy of the look Darcy had given him that afternoon.   

                It wasn’t the look she normally gave him—friendly and respectful with a little hint of professional curiosity.  And it wasn’t the look of fondness and comradery she reserved for Thor and Jane. And while it wasn’t the bold, lusty stares he was used to ducking from women he didn’t know, Steve couldn’t help but feel that there was a certain weight to her gaze that wasn’t there before.  Something that said she was seeing something new, something she might have overlooked.  Something that had momentarily inspired his confidence in asking her out for a cup of coffee.

                He blew out a breath in a long, slow _whoosh_ and stared down again at his blank drawing paper.  As for what the hell sheep had to do with it…he really couldn’t be sure.  But Steve remembered exactly how that little hum sounded in the back of her throat, how her hair had fallen into her large, blue eyes and the soft smile that had turned up the corner of her red lips.  He wanted that back.

                So he started drawing.

 

***

 

                It was another two days before he saw her again.  This time there was no debrief to sit through, no calculated moves from his teammates to abandon him in her presence. This time she was just sitting at her desk, studying a report with a thoughtful frown pouting her lips.  The smile she gave him when she looked up was enough to flip his stomach and make him rethink this entire venture.

                “Good morning, Captain,” she said, closing the report and sliding it to the side.  She folded her hands in front of her. “Are you looking for some science?”

                Steve felt himself smile at her turn of phrase. “Uh, no. I’m not.”

                “Oh,” she frowned briefly. “That’s a shame; we’ve got some grade-A science happening right behind that door,” she gave a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder to the frosted glass door of the R&D department.

                “I’ve had enough grade-A science to last a lifetime,” he said, his smile not fading. “But thanks for the offer.”

                “So if you’re not here for the freshly picked science,” she tilted her head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

                He swallowed hard.  “I uh, I came to see you, actually.” He ran a hand through his hair and reached into the pocket of his jacket where he had carefully folded and tucked his sketch.

                Darcy brightened again and raised her eyebrows.  “For me?  Really?”

                He almost talked himself out of handing it to her three times before he passed the paper into her hand.  Her nails sported a neglected manicure of chipped polish the color of a storm cloud.  He focused on her hands so he didn’t have to worry about getting lost in the way her teeth pressed into her full bottom lip while she unfolded his offering.  He couldn’t help but catch the line of confusion that appeared between her eyebrows, though.  Immediately he went into back-peddling.  “You uh, you asked for that?”  He wanted to smack himself for his uncertainty, for how nervous he sounded, for the sweat that had broken out on his palms and the back of his neck.  “The other day—you asked me to draw you a sheep so I…”

                “Oh,” Darcy let out a little chuckle that he couldn’t help but find musical.  “I guess I did…” she smiled down at the cartoon sheep that was smiling up at her.  “It’s a quote,” she said finally, looking back up at him.  “From a book.  _Le Petit Prince_?  By Antoine de Saint-Exupéry?”  He could tell his face was not concealing his confusion.  “You said something about the heart seeing what’s invisible to the eyes…I uh,” she bit her lip. “I thought you were quoting it, so I countered with ‘draw me a sheep’.  It’s what the little prince says when…” she trailed off and a faint blush stained her fair cheeks. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

                “I think I’ve heard of the book but I haven’t uh,” he glanced down at his shoes. “Haven’t managed to read it yet.”

                “Oh, you have to,” she said, sounding so excited that he almost forgot to feel stupid for the misunderstanding behind his gift.  “It’s great!  Some people dismiss it because they think it’s a children’s book, but it’s about life and love and so much…I think everyone should read it.”  Darcy dropped her gaze from his for a moment before she looked back up. “You can borrow my copy…if you want.”

                He blinked and refocused his eyes on hers.  She wasn’t making fun of him, he didn’t think.  Even though he’d completely botched this interaction from the beginning, Darcy didn’t seem to be too upset. “Uh, yeah,” he said after a few long moments. “Sure, I’ll put it on the list.”  His eyes fell to the drawing that was still under her hand.  It was a little more cutesy than his usual style, but the sheep had large eyes like hers, a little smile on its face, and a curly mess of a wool coat. “You don’t have to keep that,” he said finally, feeling his ears turn red.

                Darcy glanced down at the drawing for the third time in less than a minute.  When she looked up again, her smile had slid from excited to shy. “No one’s ever drawn me a sheep before,” she said, almost to herself.  “Thanks, Cap.”

                He felt himself give her a faint smile in return. “You can call me Steve,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

                Her smile widened as a glossy lock of dark brown hair fell into her face.  “I like that better,” she said tucking it back behind her ear.

                Steve was pretty sure he could feel that smile in the marrow of his bones.  He opened his mouth to tell that he preferred it too when his phone beeped in his pocket.

                “Gotta work?” Darcy asked when he looked up from the screen.

                “Uh, yeah,” he frowned.  “It’s Fury he’s—”

                “Furious?”

                Steve smiled. “Usually.”  He swallowed hard and considered once again asking her out.  “Enjoy the uh…” He wished immediately he’d gone with something else. “Sheep, I guess.”

                Darcy grinned.   “I will,” she said, making him believe it.  “Thank you.”

 

***

 

                There was a padded envelope in his mailbox when he returned from his mission in Nicaragua.  Darcy’s copy of _Le Petit Prince_ was soft and dog-eared and fat with rereads, as if she’d left pieces of herself stuffed between the pages.  The spine was cracked and peeling and it smelled like the bookstore he remembered from his old neighborhood in Brooklyn.  She had left him a note inside the cover on a piece of paper the same shade of blue as her eyes.

                _Steve,_

                _For whenever you get a chance.  I really hope you like it._

_-Darcy_

                He was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower.  But it made him smile, especially when he opened to the page whose corner she had left folded down.  She’d highlighted two pieces of dialogue with lines of bright blue marker that matched the note inside the cover.

                _"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"_

_"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."_

_"'To establish ties'?"_

_"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."_

                He felt the smile creep over his face.  He didn’t want to get his hopes up that it meant anything more than what it appeared to be at face value.  She wouldn’t have been the first person to hint that he might need a few friends in his life—friends that weren’t his team. 

                Still, that didn’t stop his stomach from flipping when his eyes dropped to the second paragraph to which she’d directed his attention.

                _"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…"_

                It took him less than a day to read the rest of the book.  And it took him another week after that to ask Darcy if she’d like to go out for a cup of coffee.  And two weeks after _that_ when he found himself in her apartment, he discovered his drawing of the sheep, taped right at eye level to her refrigerator.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was Le Petit Prince (obviously owned entirely by the amazing and incredible Antoine de Saint-Exupéry). And the whole "draw me a sheep" thing is actually what my husband did to make me notice him before we started dating. So I guess I dedicate this nonsense to him and to the drawing of a sheep that is still taped to our refrigerator, five years later.


End file.
